


From the Ashes of Perdition

by Redamber79



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Doctor Meg Masters, Firefighter Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Paramedic Balthazar, Paramedic Gabriel, Police Officer Dean Winchester, Police Officer Sam Winchester, Undercover cop Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 13:02:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17787905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redamber79/pseuds/Redamber79
Summary: Dean was working as a bartender and assistant manager at a nightclub called Perdition when he was trapped in a fire. He comes to surrounded by flame, convinced his life is over, when a guardian angel swoops in to save him, in the form of firefighter Castiel Novak.Cas pulls an unconscious man from a fire, only to discover he's rescued a police detective. What was he doing in the storerooms of a nightclub just as a fire engulfed it?





	From the Ashes of Perdition

**Author's Note:**

> This is a WIP, please bear with me. 
> 
> Many thanks to cutelittlekitty and hollyblue2 for beta-ing my work, all additional errors are mine.

“Son of a bitch!” 

 

Dean dodged a falling beam, a graceless sprawl that left him briefly stunned. His head throbbed from the blow he'd received shortly after arriving, which didn't incapacitate him for as long as he expected. His wrist gave out when he tried to push himself upright and he collapsed again as the flames licked at his arm, the smoke beginning to overwhelm him. Dean tried to crawl, but the nightclub was quickly being engulfed. He called for help, but his voice was rasping and low, far more so that usual, thanks to the dense smoke that made his every breath agony.  He fell again, dizzy and disoriented, whether from the smoke, the concussion, or both, he didn't know.

 

Dean just knew he was going to die in here.

 

Suddenly, a form appeared before him, pulling him up to his feet and slinging him over broad shoulders. The edge of an oxygen tank dug uncomfortably into his ribs, but he didn't care. He was going to be saved from this burning hell.

  
A coughing fit wracked his body, and his abused lungs seized, sending him spiralling into darkness.   
  
**   
  
Dean came to a few minutes later, leaning back against a lamppost next to a firetruck. An oxygen mask was forcing him to breathe in a slow rhythm, and he coughed and gagged at the ache in his throat and lungs. The firefighter dropped a hand to his upper arm to steady him, and Dean hissed in pain at the contact. Stripping himself of his gear, the firefighter crouched next to Dean, giving him only the barest hint of dark hair and tanned skin smeared with soot. The man's hair should have been sweaty and gross after the confines of the helmet, but instead it just looked sexed up.  Dean looked over at the burning building, and felt no regret over its loss. The four months he'd worked undercover in that bar had felt like forty years. He glanced down his body, automatically checking for further injuries, and saw his wallet on his lap, opened to his ID.

  
“DEAN!” 

  
Dean snapped his head up and saw his brother Sam waving, his police badge quickly allowing him closer than the gawkers. He jogged over, his long legs eating up the distance quickly.

  
“Dean, what happened?! Are you alright?” Sam turned immediately to the firefighter without waiting for an answer and Dean rolled his eyes. “Is he alright?”

  
Dean shifted as though to answer, but the firefighter looked up at him with a piercing stare, his eyes remarkably blue even under the streetlights and flickering orange from the fire. The injured man froze, breathless for a different reason than the smoke, though it set him off coughing nonetheless.

  
“A second degree burn on his arm, fractured wrist, and smoke inhalation. He passed out on the way out. He needs a hospital,” the man answered in a gravelly voice, keeping his eyes on Dean's face. “You're lucky I found you when I did, Dean.”

  
“And he's lucky I'm here to get him to the hospital then! Sasquatch, move it, you’re blocking traffic with that cute ass,” came an irreverent voice. A paramedic with blond hair made his way closer, pushing a gurney.  

 

“Sammy…? Wazza trap.” Dean's voice was muffled by the mask, and he slurred his brother's name. Sam didn't respond, and Dean struggled to sit up.

 

**

  
“Gabriel, please don't antagonize the nice officer,” the firefighter sighed wearily, pressing Dean back gently.  “Dean, you'll be in good hands, despite his inappropriate behaviour.”

  
Gabriel paused in his triage and glanced over at Sam with a twinkle in his whiskey eyes. 

“Officer, huh? I'd better behave then. Being cuffed on the job is so awkward.  Off the job…” 

  
“Gabriel…” the firefighter growled as he collected his gear.

  
“Alright Castiel, for my favourite brother, I'll leave Officer…” he quirked an eyebrow at the tall man, who even in the flickering light was visibly flushed. 

  
“Well, ah… Winchester. Detective Sam Winchester,” he stammered, his gaze flying between the blond paramedic and his brother, who seemed confused, swaying a little as he raised one shaking hand to his head.

  
“Dean?” Sam called his brother's name, then jumped forward in alarm as Dean's eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out. 

 

“Fuck! Cassie, we've got something else here, what did we miss?”

 

“He was reaching for his head…” Sam interjected, worry colouring his tone, and Castiel swore.

 

“He mumbled something, just before he went down. It sounded like he said “trap”.”

 

Gabriel’s fingers quickly and carefully examined Dean's skull and he swore again. 

 

“We've got a head injury. Balth! Move it or lose it, we gotta go now!”

 

“I'm going with my brother,” Sam stated firmly. 

“Then move your ass, Samsquatch.”

 

“Gabriel!” Castiel reprimanded his brother harshly.

 

“Alright, Cassie, I’ll leave Detective Winchester alone.” He and Balth carefully moved Dean onto the stretcher, strapped him in place, and he nodded to Castiel.  “For now…”

  
He started to push it back to the ambulance, when another coughing fit seized Dean, and Gabriel met the eyes of the second paramedic, Balth, urgently.

 

“We need to intubate, STAT.”

 

“Gabriel…” Castiel sent his brother a pleading look.

 

“You got him out, I'll get him to the hospital alive, Meg'll kick his ass back to health. Alright, Deano,” he spoke to the unconscious man, “your chariot awaits. You coming, Samsquatch?” 

 

“Yeah, I'm on guard detail 'til we know how this went down. Don't you dare die, Jerk,” Sam told his injured brother, “Captain's orders.”

 

**

 

Dean was settled back on the stretcher, a distinct pallor under his soot-covered face, and Sam gave him a worried once over. 

 

“Come on, Dean, wake up,” Sam implored, his voice cracking a little. “I can't do this without you. Yeah, I know. No chick flick moments. What can I say, I'm glad you're alive. It's your turn to make dinner next Sunday, and you promised burgers.”

 

Gabe snorted as he and his partner, a tall, lanky blond with an English accent, loaded the stretcher into the back of the ambulance.  As the stretcher bumped into place, Dean started coughing again despite the oxygen mask. Gabriel quickly stepped to his side, and attempted to coax him through the wracking cough that was stealing his breath, but it was clear Dean was in serious distress. 

 

“Balth, I need to intubate, step on it!” he half-shouted to the second paramedic, who was barely settled in the driver's seat before he hit the sirens and lights, and peeled out. “Samalam, how close am I in calling him eighty kilos? Need his vitals.”

 

“Ummm… one seventy-five, one-eighty?” Sam replied, his voice full of worry for his brother.

 

“Dean, can you hear me? Try to breathe slowly, calm down. We're going to take care of you, but I need you to try to control your breathing.”

 

Dean's breathing became more laboured, however, and Gabriel swore. 

 

“Shit! No potholes Balth, Cassie likes this one!”

 

Gabriel never seemed to stop moving, having already managed to get Dean hooked up to an EKG machine, and a saline drip. As Dean's breathing became more shallow and laboured, Sam panicked for a moment, but the rapid beeping of the heart rate monitor was reassuring in its odd way. He winced as he watched Gabriel intubate Dean, knowing it would be hellishly uncomfortable when it came out. But better than the alternative.

 

The sirens and lights cleared their path to the hospital, and within seven minutes Gabriel and Balth were through the doors with Dean's stretcher, and calling to the ER’s attending. 

 

**

 

“Meg, we got an urgent one here! Thirty year old male, unconscious. Fire at Perdition, severe smoke inhalation, second degree burns upper left arm, fractured left wrist, head injury, BP 165 over 102. Had to intubate en route, breathing laboured, O2 saturation 48 percent. Lost consciousness during rescue, and again approximately ten minutes later despite oxygen mask on scene. Need a private room, we got PD along for this one.”

 

Gabriel winked at Sam, who even in his concern for Dean managed a small smile for the paramedic's ingenuity. Dean needed a guard, but he hadn't been pegged as a cop yet, and Sam hadn't been named as his brother. If he was still in danger, they'd need any advantage they could get.

 

Meg led them quickly to a private triage room and checked Dean's vitals. 

 

“Alright Gabriel, ya did good. Getting him intubated STAT was the best thing for him, now it'll be a matter of checking that head injury for swelling. Once that's taken care of, we'll worry about monitoring his O2 saturation, and we can deal with the burns and the break. Honestly, when I heard about the fire, I was afraid we'd need a full burn room, but he's got just the one spot, from the looks of it. Now, more importantly, where's that cute little angel you call a baby brother?”

 

Despite her words, she kept moving, checking Dean's pupil dilation with a small flashlight and taking his pulse. 

 

“Meg, you gotta stop hitting on him, I think Cassie is actually afraid of you!”

 

“Geez, I just want a repeat of the kiss Clarence gave me at that New Year's party, is that so wrong?” she smirked.

 

Gabriel rolled his eyes, but he was grinning. 

 

“He's still gay. Just because you thought his shy routine meant he didn't know how to kiss, and he proved you wrong, doesn't mean he wants a repeat.”

 

Sam's eyes were wide at the byplay, and he wondered what Dean was getting into. Then Gabriel winked at Sam again, and he wondered if he himself knew what he was getting into, even as he felt heat rushing to his cheeks.

 

“Time to split. Hey Samalam, Meg's the best, she'll make sure Deano gets the best care and comes out of this no worse than if he were hungover.”

 

“Thanks, Gabe,” Sam replied, then blushed when he realised he'd used a nickname. The whiskey eyes widened briefly and Sam saw a pink tinge colour Gabe's cheekbones.

 

“You're welcome, Sam.” 

 

The shorter man ducked his head and made for the door, but not before Sam saw the tiny smile on his lips, and he felt an answering one pulling at his own lips for a moment before he turned back to the ER doctor.

 

“I'm Sam Winchester, that's my brother, Dean, and I'm sticking around. He needs a guard detail, this was attempted murder.”

 

“Do you think someone'll try again?” Meg asked pointedly.

 

Sam glanced about, making sure no one was close by. He handed her Dean's badge, and her eyebrows flew up.

 

“He said it was a trap.”

 

“Alright, I can have hospital security standing by until you get people you trust here, but right now I've gotta get him a CAT scan. I need to know if he's unconscious because of the smoke, the head injury, or both.”

 

“Thanks, Meg. Wait, what's your name? Doesn't feel professional…”

 

“Meg Masters, but fuck professional. Cops are family, same as EMTs and fire department.”

 

Sam barked out a nervous laugh, and stepped aside as she paged staff to assist her to radiology. 

 

“Come on then, Sammy, let's get your friend here checked out.”

 

“Doc? He's coming with? That's a restricted area.”

 

“Witness to a crime, cops can stay close, just not in the room. Monitoring room through that door, c’mon. Kevin!” she barked, making the short young man jump. “Kevin, Detective Winchester. Detective, Kevin. Special case, Kev, Sam's sitting in.”

 

“But…”

 

“Do it. It's on me.”

 

Kevin shrugged, apparently used to Meg's arbitrary bending of rules. 

 

“Sure. Let's see what we got!”

 

Meg set Dean up for the scan and rejoined them. Sam held his breath as the machine moved over Dean's still form, and images began to appear on Kevin's screen.

 

“Minor surface swelling, nothing internal,” Meg assessed. “Whatever hit him was barely enough to knock him out, must have been a glancing blow when he fell. Just enough to break the skin and swell externally.”

 

Sam watched Meg from the corner of one eye, her manner completely calm as she diagnosed and fabricated her way through the likely cause of injury in front of the radiologist. She was good.

 

Sam nodded to her and stepped out into the hall to text Bobby. No way he was letting this be overheard.

 

Swinch82:  _ 2300 Main St, your 2nd fave son had some issues with work _ . 

 

Rsing:  _ what did that boy do now? _

 

Swinch82:  _ you know him, out of the frying pan into the fire. I'll babysit til the hangover's gone. Coffee run? _

 

Rsing:  _ yeah, I'll deliver. _

 

Sam pocketed his phone, content that their Captain, and surrogate uncle, was apprised for now. The coded messages had been needed while Dean was undercover, though Sam's only contact with Dean for the past four months had been between burner phones. With a takedown like this at stake, they were doubly cautious. 

 

And if Dean was right, and it was a trap, clearly that wasn't enough. 

 

**

 

Within twenty minutes, Sam was joined by a grizzled older man with an unkempt beard and a beat up old baseball cap. 

 

“Hey Bobby, appreciate you joining me,” Sam commented, accepting the coffee with a nod of thanks. He spotted two uniformed officers approaching, and smiled. Benny and Jo would definitely keep Dean safe.

 

“Well, when that idjit gets hurt, it gets my attention. What the hell happened?”

 

“He was at work, though that long after closing, who knows why. Inventory, maybe?” Sam dodged the question, and he saw Bobby's eyes narrow slightly. They'd go over it later, in private. “Anyway, he got himself a bump on the head, and there was a fire. We have to wait for the report from the fire department for the cause, but that building has always been hell.  Thankfully, broken wrist, smoke inhalation is the worst of it. The bump on his head was barely a graze, maybe knocked him out for five minutes. Just long enough for the fire to nearly get him. He's got a burn on one arm too, but it's second degree and fairly small, all things considered. Reminds me, I need to buy a fruit basket or a bottle of whiskey or something for the firefighter who hauled his ass outta there. Not to mention the paramedics who got us here ASAP.”

 

Sam thought he controlled his voice and expression, but Bobby was a cagey old fart, and eyed him suspiciously. 

 

“Like that, is it? Keep your mind on your job for now, ya idjit. There'll be time for hanky-panky when we get this done.”

 

Sam flushed red again, and Bobby handed him his own coffee before wandering off to a washroom muttering again about  _ idjits _ . Sam sipped his coffee and kept an eye on Dean's doorway, waiting for Meg to reappear. He sat on an uncomfortable plastic chair and filled in Benny and Jo about Dean's injuries. Benny's countenance barely changed, just a subtle shifting of weight, and the large man was suddenly balanced on the balls of his feet. Sam had sparred with him, and didn't envy anyone who tried to cross him tonight. Jo, on the other hand, was holding onto her belt with white-knuckled hands as she smiled at Sam. He nearly flinched, but he knew the baring of teeth wasn't really directed at him. Come to think of it, Benny might be ready to move because he might need to restrain Jo.

 

“Quite the party,” came a sardonic tone, and Meg was there, one eyebrow raised as she looked at the three of them.

 

“Guys, Doctor Meg Masters. Meg, these officers, Benny and Jo, are keeping a lookout.”

 

“Sounds good. Come on in, we can talk in his room.”

 

“Not without me, ya ain't,” barked Bobby, and he strode forward and reclaimed his coffee from Sam. They walked back into the room, and Sam winced to see his brother hooked up to a jumble of machines, but the steady beep of his heart rate, and the hiss of the pump helping him breathe, were comforting.

 

“Alright, I've got him on a low level sedation for now, which is a calculated risk with the head injury, even mild as it is, but I want his oxygen levels much higher before he regains consciousness. That means the tube stays in and nobody deals with that well awake.”

 

“How long, Meg?” Sam asked urgently, the thought of not knowing who had sprung a trap on Dean making him nervous.

 

“At least twenty-four hours, then we reassess his levels. He'll be under constant monitoring, but once his numbers are above seventy-five, I'll be happy to let him wake up. Even that’s a low number, but really, if his lungs weren't full of soot, I'd be able to say sixty. Anything that makes him cough will put him at risk right now.”

 

“What about the head wound?” Sam asked quickly. “You said it was a glancing blow?”

 

“Very calculated, actually. It would be enough to knock him out, but not do any damage to the skull. And if he hadn't been rescued, the fire would likely have covered the damage. Someone either was incompetent about knocking him out, or they didn't want to risk leaving evidence of the blow.”

 

“Thanks Meg. Would you excuse us? I need to speak to Bobby, here.”

 

“Sure thing. I'll check in in about an hour, but can be paged at any time.” She left quickly, closing the door behind her.

 

“She's an interesting one, how'd we find her?” Bobby asked gruffly.

 

“She's the attending ER doctor, but Ga--one of the paramedics who brought us here, gave her the rundown and seemed to trust her. Bobby, we got a big problem.”

 

“Well, no shit, Princess. Hard to have a sting for that damn bar's drug and prostitution ring when our guy's unconscious and the place is burned down anyway.”

 

“Bobby, Dean was conscious. He said it was a trap. But that was all he managed before he passed out again.”

 

Bobby stared at him a moment, then pulled off his cap and slapped it against his thigh.

 

“ _ Balls!” _ he spat out explosively.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I am not a firefighter, a paramedic, a police officer, or a doctor. Any errors are mine, though I know more than I once did!
> 
> Visit me on tumblr at Imbiowaresbitch.


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